


subversion.

by petit_renard



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Illusions, M/M, Not Fluff, Sad, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, but could totally be brother/father figure-y if that floats your boat too, countries verse, intended as shippy, isthatathing? it is now, kinda sorta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7612330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petit_renard/pseuds/petit_renard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't love me anymore. Because of this fact, I no longer wish to be a nation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	subversion.

**Author's Note:**

> Oops. My first work was supposed to be a long chaptered mess but here's this instead. Again, this is tagged as a slight AU so I made some assumptions that don't go hand in hand with the established canon. All for the sake of beloved tragedy.

A delicate rain fell upon cobble stone streets, washing the blood of countless figurative soldiers into drains that waited with open arms. These drains had long since begun to overflow with years of tensions casting citizen after citizen at the feet of Death. Like any nation, Alfred F. Jones stood by and could do nothing but ride out the tempests as they came; wars were fought and some won, others lost. Each time these events passed they took with them many lives and the drains waiting to soak up the blood of these victims filled just a little bit more until at last they had overflowed. Centuries worth of casualties had finally dribbled over the edge. 

Above, the droplets of rain were lighter than the touch of a pixie's feet were they to brush soft fingers across human skin. It was a fanciful comparison, but a fitting one as he gazed through the bleakness and directly into the dead green irises of a man across the plaza. Between them Alfred could imagine the thousands of his citizens that had stood with him against the other and now, through this final battle – verbal and not a consequence of anything political – he felt even more wounded than if it had been. The Revolutionary War had been so difficult for him on so many levels, but this – this was almost worse. 

He still didn't understand how they'd come to this. He'd loved the man standing so bitterly across from him with a burning fire that even his duty of being the hero couldn't have rivaled. He'd looked up to him, counted on him and fought for him even after everything the other had tried over the years. They had so much history between them that Alfred couldn't believe it was finally ending. A part of him refused to accept it. A nation simply couldn't _give up_ their nationhood. They were born into their roles, trained and kept there until their nation either evolved into something new or was devastated beyond recuperation. England was in a state of complete peace and Arthur faced neither of those ends. He couldn't simply walk away from who he was – _what_ he was. Alfred wouldn't allow it. Especially not for such a _ridiculous_ reason. Blue eyes quivered in the tension that hung between them and Alfred took in a staggering breath. 

“Arthur,” he whispered. The single name hung in the shimmering air between them like a ghost, lost to the expanse that stretched. The North American nation didn't know if the other had heard him but he shivered at the sound anyway. Something in the roots of his being rebelled and blue eyes shut tightly against the images of a soft smile from his childhood. Arthur had been everything Alfred had ever needed from the time he first became a nation, after the Revolution and even in the present. He couldn't let him go now, he wouldn't! 

“Arthur!” he roared. “Don't do this!” Rain plinked quietly against the lenses of his glasses as Alfred gazed upon the unmoving form across from him. “I still need you, the _world_ still needs you. You're a nation, man! You can't just walk away from that. The England I knew never would! You were one of the world's greatest powers at the height of your empire. You taught me so much and even though I know we kinda don't always get along you can't just leave everything behind now! _Arthur!_ ” A strangled sob escaped the taller nation and his voice cracked on the last word. Before Alfred realized what he was doing long strides brought him to the blue barrier hanging between them, transparent but still a blockade keeping him from shaking the island nation senseless. 

“Arthur! _Arthur!_ ” More strangled sobs escaped the younger and he nailed the barrier with every force he could. Still the other did not move. 

\- - - - - - -

Arthur tried to stand tall, to stand strong. His limbs felt heavy despite his stoic stance, and the look on his face bled into the inner turmoil within him as he tried to remain cold. Across from the small blonde in the plaza blue eyes pierced his gaze and it took all his will to keep from breaking down in tears. The soft rain that twinkled around him went by barley noticed as clouds thundered overhead. All the island nation could fathom was the unrecognizable look on his former colony's face and the chill it was forcing into his soul.

He didn't understand why Alfred was doing this, why he was giving up everything – or how he even _could_. Hadn't it been America who'd always craved the title of hero and done anything in his extensive power to act upon such? How could that man, the embodiment of such a strong country suddenly just step away from it all. And so suddenly? For such a simple, absurd reason? Arthur didn't understand any of it and the more he tried, the more his head swum and the more his outer facade cracked. There was once a time in which Alfred had been his whole world. How did they come to this?

Blood dribbled in between the cobblestones at their feet. Blood both literal and symbolic of all the wars, and fights, and ridiculous things that had passed between them over the years. There was so much history between England and America and now, standing there as it all washed away under foot, Arthur couldn't believe it was finally over. He wouldn't believe it; he wouldn't let it happen! His lips pressed into a thin line, determination sparking in green irises. 

“How selfish you are,” he growled into the tension that hung between them. The aura seemed to shimmer around him, his words barely able to reach the other side of the plaza. There was no response and no indication that Alfred had heard him. Arthur pressed on. “There was a time when I would have done anything for you.” He paused to gaze at the worn stones underfoot. “A time in which I would have taken a bullet for you, anything to protect the colony that I loved and that _loved me!_ ” When he looked up again, emphasis hanging like poison off the last few words, green eyes were clouded with the brimming of tears. “Back then you were innocent and though you grew and rebelled, you developed into something much more. You are a nation of strong people now and that's not something you can so easily walk away from! It's not a luxury we as nations have. We cannot live normal lives, have families or even form bonds with the expectation that they could last. But most of all, we do not have the freedom to walk away from the life we lead.” he paused again. “And even if we did, I wouldn't let you, Alfred!” 

_I can't._ The thought cracked something deep inside the old nation's soul. 

A heavy silence hung then, almost pausing the rain and slowing time. A soft shadow of orange had decent upon the scene, bathing the narrow street in a glow that was more nefarious than comforting. Sunset could be beautiful but today it was simply heavy. It hung off of every surface like a daemon, spreading its wings and gathering everything underneath them to take into the underworld. Humidity had settled in with the dawn of this new light and Arthur's lungs felt heavy under the tax of speaking so emotionally. 

The British nation stood tall, eyeing his companion as the North American nation simply remained silent. He still gave no indication of having heard anything, he didn't even move!, and Arthur worried his bottom lip in a moment of weakness. The silence was driving him closer to the edge, cracking the stoic, determined foundation he was intrepidly standing upon. Flashes of a stronger empire came to him then. Flashes of the Great British Empire, once a man who would not have stood by so idly while one he cared for pulled away from him. Evil perhaps, or simply less aware of himself, that man would have forced Alfred into submission. Taken him with every flaw and tortured him in every way until he finally stood down. He wouldn't have simply let the foolish young nation step away from everything they'd worked so hard on! 

But Arthur was not that nation anymore. He was older, wiser and had much less power after the crumbling of his empire. Alfred had slipped out right from under his grasp once before and now was about to do it again. No special political bond could reunite them now. If Alfred abandoned his life as a nation, he would be lost to Arthur forever. 

Rattled by the reality of it, Arthur's teeth snapped shut with an audible click and he strode angrily towards the taller blonde across the plaza. Between them there was a blue barrier, transparent and through which they could only just see one another. Even with every step closer and every growl that escaped the old nation he could see that Alfred had not moved. The silence was maddening and before Arthur had realized, he was shouting at the taller blonde through the barrier and knocking his fists angrily against it. Perhaps if he could only reach Alfred, knock some sense into his too big, too impressive form – maybe then he would snap out of these delusions. Tears streaked down the smaller one's face and his voice cracked with every wail.

\- - - - - - -

Somewhere far above a hawk circled, unconcerned by the grievances that plagued the two beings below. If they could only see how desperately the other pounded, both reaching and yet not grasping at the same aim. It was a tragic reality, and it hung in the stillness of a summer afternoon as the clouds parted and a soft wind teased blonde hair. 

_You don't love me anymore. Because of this fact, I no longer wish to be a nation._


End file.
